CHAPTER 10

Starsky drifted somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. Time had lost all meaning here in his concrete prison. He was no longer sure how long it had been since he'd been abducted. A few hours or a few days; it all felt the same.

His constant companion was an aching throughout his body which was not only intensely painful, but was compounded by a chill in the air, a burning thirst, and hunger pangs that made his stomach cramp. His wrists were still bound securely behind his back, but at some point, the blindfold had been removed. Not that it did much good. The room where he was being held either had no windows, or they were covered with something that blocked out any light from the outside.

Sometimes, a rustling in the surrounding shadows warned him that he wasn't alone. He never knew when his captor was going to suddenly appear out of the darkness to torture him again. Fortunately, although the beatings were painful, his kidnapper was careful not to inflict any real damage. But, the physical abuse coupled with the lack of food and water, was rapidly draining Starsky's strength. With the shadows in the room obscuring his tormentor's face, Starsky knew he would never be able to make a positive ID.

Slowly, Starsky forced himself to become more alert. As he carefully shifted positions to ease the stiffness in his back and legs, he felt his face bump against something on the floor beside him. Further investigation revealed a plastic bowl filled with water that had been set there. With his hands tied, the only way he could drink the water was to struggle to his knees and bend forward so he could lap at it like a dog. It was warm with a distinctive muddy taste to it, but to Starsky, it tasted like the finest sparkling spring water. He drank quickly to quench his thirst, causing his stomach to cramp in protest. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, willing the much needed fluid to stay down.

Once he had satisfied his thirst, he lay back on the floor and let himself drift back into a semi-haze; not fully alert, but not completely unconscious either. In the recesses of his mind, he vaguely toyed with the thought that his captor's voice sounded hauntingly familiar. Not that remembering would get him anywhere. He knew that his chances of being rescued were virtually non-existent. He expected that he would die in this place, alone with nobody there to mourn him, while being branded a murderer and an escaped felon by his peers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'll take it," Hutch said as he looked around the apartment with its open floor plan. It suited his needs perfectly. It was a furnished one bedroom apartment located on the second floor of a building aptly named Venice Place. The building's owner was the manager of a deli style restaurant located on the ground floor.

"I'm sure you'll like it here," the woman, who had introduced herself as Helen Chavez, said with a pleased smile. "That will be six hundred dollars for the first month's rent and the security deposit."

Hutch nodded as he took out his checkbook and wrote her a check for the required amount. As he handed it to her, she handed him the keys to the apartment. "I'll put the receipt in your mailbox," She told him. With a parting smile, she left him alone to explore his new home. He sighed softly as the door closed behind her. He was grateful that he had found this apartment relatively easily. He hadn't been looking forward to juggling work, house hunting, and his upcoming divorce.

As he looked around, Hutch mentally decorated the apartment. An attached glass enclosed patio overlooking the street would make a perfect greenhouse. Vanessa hadn't allowed any plants in their apartment, and he was looking forward to having the freedom to explore his green thumb.

He would have liked to have spent more time getting accustomed to his new home, but he needed to get back to the office. He was meeting with a client later that afternoon, and he had some paperwork he wanted to catch up on before then. Locking the door behind him, he pocketed the keys and left the building.

When he got back to the office, he was surprised to find Al and Rose Starsky waiting for him in the outer office. Al immediately rose to his feet and said, "We need to talk to you."

"Hold my calls," he said to Amanda over his shoulder as he ushered the older couple into his office.

Rose sat down in one of the chairs but Al remained standing. He appeared to be both distracted and agitated. Dispensing with the small talk, Hutch got straight to the point.

"What can I do for you?"

"Are they going to try and take our house?" Al demanded.

"They could, but I wouldn't worry about that just yet," Hutch reassured him. "A trial date will be set and if David hasn't been found by then, the court could try to take possession, since you did put the house up to ensure the bond."

"David didn't run," Al insisted "He wouldn't do that!"

"All the evidence suggests that he did,"

"I don't care what the evidence suggests. You don't know David. He wouldn't do something like that."

"People sometimes do things we wouldn't expect them to do when they're facing the kind of charges that David is facing."

"He was framed!" Al said firmly. "We trusted you to help him prove that!"

"I never made any promises other than to represent David to the best of my ability, and I have done that. Surely, you must realize how this looks to the court."

"We don't care how it looks to the court," Rose said tearfully "All we care about is David."

"And I can appreciate that, but my hands are tied." Hutch's voice softened "Look, John Blaine is doing all he can to help. Hopefully, he'll turn something up, and we'll be able to find David before it gets that serious."

"Something's happened to him!" Rose declared, tears rolling freely down her face. "I just know it has!"

"Now, now, darling," Al said as he turned his attention to his distraught wife. He patted her back in an awkward, yet comforting gesture. He threw a sharp glance in Hutch's direction. "We're counting on you." He took Rose's hand and gently helped her to her feet. "David is counting on you." With that parting shot, the couple left the office.

Hutch leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the start of a migraine coming on. He could sympathize with the older couple, but he had to maintain a professional distance. And that was becoming more and more difficult to do with this case. He had felt an almost instant connection with David Starsky. It was a connection that he was at a loss to explain, but, there was no denying that it was there.

Pressing the intercom button, he said, "Get me John Blaine at the Metropolitan Division."

Within minutes, his phone rang. Picking up the receiver, he said, "Ken Hutchinson here."

"Mr. Hutchinson, its John Blaine. David's trail turns up cold at the airport. I think someone wants us to believe that he skipped town."

"Any ideas who?"

"Too many…David tended to rub people the wrong way sometimes…especially the bad guys." After a long pause, Blaine added, "I put together a list of the most likely suspects and have been checking them out. So far I haven't come up with anything."

"What if it's someone who doesn't have anything to do with him being a cop?"

"That's always possible. I'm digging into Kelly's background too. Whoever it was they had to be familiar enough with David's routine to know the best time to grab him."

"Or they've been watching him for the past few days," Hutch suggested "And just waiting for the right opportunity to come along."

"That's possible too. I'll let you know if anything turns up," Blaine said. There was a soft click on the other end of the line as he disconnected the call.

Hutch gathered up his things and prepared to leave for the day. He paused at the receptionist's desk long enough to instruct Amanda to reschedule his afternoon appointment.

He drove to his new apartment and parked in front of the building. The restaurant on the first floor was already closed for the day, and the street was quiet. Hutch knew that wouldn't last. Within the next couple of hours the night people would come out of hiding, ready to resume their nocturnal existence. Hookers looking for a trick, junkies desperate for their next fix, pimps keeping an eye on their merchandise, and hustlers looking to make a quick buck.

Hutch climbed the enclosed staircase to the second floor and paused on the landing to dig the key out of his pocket. He liked the fact that his new home was the only apartment on the second floor. No neighbors to contend with. No need to paste on a phony smile and be polite when he really wasn't in the mood to socialize. He entered his new sanctuary and closed the door, shutting out the outside world until morning.